Lion. Heavens! 'tis Sir John Flowerdale. Sir J. Who's there? Lion. 'Tis I, Sir; I am here, Lionel. Sir J. My dear lad, have been searching for you this half hour, and was at last told you had come into the garden; I have a piece of which I dare swear will shock and surnews, prise you; my daughter has refused Colonel Oldboy's son, who is this minute departed the house in violent resentment of her ill treatment. Lion. Perhaps, Sir, the gentleman may have been too impetuous, and offended Miss Flowerdale's delicacy-certainly nothing else could occasion Sir J. Heaven only knows-I think, indeed, there can be no settled aversion, and surely her affections are not engaged elsewhere. Lion. Engaged, Sir-No, Sir. Sir J. I think not, Lionel. Lion. You may be positive, Sir.—I'm sure— Sir J. O worthy young man, whose integrity, openness, and every good quality have rendered thee dear to me as my own child; I see this affair troubles you as much as it does me. Lion. It troubles me indeed, Sir. Sir J. However, my particular disappointment ought not to be detrimental to you, nor shall it: I well know how irksome it is to a generous mind to live in a state of dependance, and have long had it in my thoughts to make you easy for life. Lion. Sir John, the situation of my mind at present is a little disturbed-spare me-1 beseech you, spare me; why will you persist in a goodness that makes me ashamed of myself? Sir J. There is an estate in this county which I purchased some years ago; by me it will never be missed, and whoever marries my daughter will have little reason to complain of my disposing of such a trifle for my own gratification. On the present marriage, I intended to perfect a deed of gift in your favour, which has been for some time prepared; my lawyer has this day completed it, and it is yours, my dear Lionel, with every good wish that the warmest friend can bestow. Lion. Sir, if you presented a pistol with design to shoot me, I would submit to it; but Clar. I don't make it an absolute article of belief, but I think it an ingenious conjecture, with great probability on its side. Diana. And we are & moon to the moon! Nay, child, I know something of astronomy, but that-that little shining thing there, which seems not much larger than a silver plate, should perhaps contain great cities like London; and who can tell but they may have kings there and parliaments, and plays and operas, and people of fashion! Lord, the people of fashion in the moon must be strange creatures. Clar. Methinks, Venus shines very bright in yonder corner. Diana. Venus! O pray let me look at Venus; I suppose, if there are any inhabitants there, they must be all lovers. Enter LIONEL. Lion. Was ever such a wretch-I can't stay a moment in a place; where is my repose ?— fled with my virtue. Was I then born for falsehood and dissimulation? I was, I was, and I live to be conscious of it; to impose. upon my friend; to betray my benefactor, and lie to hide my ingratitude-a monster in a moment-No, I may be the most unfortunate of men, but I will not be the most odious; is honest, I will obey its voice. heart is yet capable of dictating what while my Enter COLONEL OLDBOY and HARMAN. chief, is this a time to be walking in the garCol. O. Dy, where are you? What the misden? The coach has been ready this half hour, and your mamma is waiting for you. Diana. I am learning astronomy, Sir; do you know, papa, that the moon is inhabited? self; come here; things have gone just as I Col. O. Hussy, you are half a lunatic yourimagined they would, the girl has refused your brother; I knew he must disgust her. Diana. Women will want taste now and then, Sir. Col. O. But I must talk to the young lady a' little. with your father about the elopement, and he Har. Well, I have had a long conference continues firm in his opinion that I ought to attempt it: in short, all the necessary operations are settled between us, and I am to leave his house to-morrow morning, if I can but persuade the young lady— have more sense— Diana. Ay, but I hope the young lady will with your nonsense. Come, Sir, isn't it time -Lord, how can you teaze me for us to go in? Her ladyship will be impa tient. Miss Clarissa, my dear, though I am father to Col. O. Friend Lionel, good night to you; the puppy who has displeased you, give me a you must excuse me, I cannot lay myself un-kiss; you served him right, and I thank you der more obligations. Sir J. Your delicacy carries you too far; in this I confer a favour on myself: however, we'll talk no more on this subject at present, let us walk towards the house, our friends will depart else without my bidding them adieu. [Exeunt. Enter DIANA and CLARISSA. Diana. So then, my dear Clarissa, you really give credit to the ravings of that French wretch, with regard to a plurality of worlds? for it. As well as night, A lover's hopes may bless. Diana. Farewell, my friend, Lion. Clar. Col. O. All. Calm each tumult in your breast, What have I done? Where shall I run, With grief and shame at once oppress'd; How my own upbraidings shun, Tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet. O what a night is here for love! Nor murmuring streams, Can charm unless the heart's at ease. ACT III. [Exeunt. SCENE I-A Room in COLONEL OLDBOY'S House. Enter HARMAN, booted, followed by DIANA. Diana. Pr'ythee, hear me. Har. My dear, what would you say? Diana. Í am afraid of the step we are going to take; indeed I am: 'tis true, my father is the contriver of it; but really on consideration, I think I should appear less culpable if he was not so; I am at once criminal myself, and rendering him ridiculous. Har. Do you love me? Diana. Suppose I do, you give me a very ill proof of your love for me, when you would take advantage of my tenderness, to blind my reason: how can you have so little regard for my honour as to sacrifice it to a vain triumph? for it is in that light I see the rash action you are forcing me to commit; nay, methinks my consenting to it should injure me in your own esteem. When a woman forgets what she owes herself, a lover should set little value upon any thing she gives to him. Har. Can you suppose then, can you imagine, that my passion will ever make me forget the veneration-And an elopement is nothing, when it is on the road to matrimony. Diana. At best I shall incur the censure of disobedience and indiscretion; and is it nothing to a young woman what the world says of her? Ah! my good friend, be assured such a disregard of the world is the first step to wards deserving its reproaches. Har. But the necessity we are under-Mankind has too much good sense, too much good nature Diana. Every one has good sense enough to see other people's faults, and good nature enough to overlook their own. Besides, the most sacred things may be made an ill use of, and even marriage itself, if indecently and improperly Har. Come, get yourself ready: where is your band-box, hat and cloak? Slip into the garden; be there at the iron gate, which you showed me just now; and as the post-chaise comes round, will step and take you in. Diana. Dear Harman, let me beg of you to desist. on. Har. Dear Diana, let me beg of you to go Diana. I shall never have resolution to carry me through it. Har. We shall have four horses my dear, and they will assist us. Diana. In short-1-cannot go with you. Har. But before me--Into the gardenWont you? [Exit DIANA on one side. Enter COLONEL OLDBOY, on the other. Col. O. Hey-day! what's the meaning of this? Who is it went out of the room there? Have you and my daughter been in conference, Mr. Harman? Har. Yes, faith, Sir, she has been taking me to task here very severely with regard to this affair; and she has said so much against it, and put it into such a strange light- Col. O. A busy, impertinent baggage; 'egad, I wish I had catched her meddling, and after I ordered her not: but you have sent to the girl, and you say she is ready to go with you; you must not disappoint her now. Har. No, no, colonel; I always have politeness enough to hear a lady's reasons, but constancy enough to keep a will of my own. Col. O. Very well-now let me ask you don't you think it would be proper, upon this occasion, to have a letter ready writ for the father, to let him know who has got his daughter, and so forth? ly. Har. Certainly, Sir; and I'll write it direct Col. O. You write it! you be damned! I wont trust you with it; I tell you, Harman, you'll commit some cursed blunder if you don't leave the management of this whole affair to me: I have writ the letter for you myself. Har. Have you, Sir? Col. O. Ay-here, read it; I think it's the thing; however you are welcome to make any alteration. Har. [Reads.] Sir, I have loved your daughter a great while secretly; she assures me there is no hopes of your consenting to our marriage; I therefore take her without it. I am a gentleman who will use her well: and when y u consider the matter, I dare swear you will be willing to give her a fortune. If not, you will find I dare behave myself like a man-A word to the wise-you may expect to hear from me in another style. Col. O. Now, Sir, I will tell you what you must do with this letter: as soon as you have got off with the girl, Sir, send your servant back to leave it at the house, with orders to have it delivered to the old gentleman. Har. Upon my honour, I will, colonel. Col. O. But, upon my honour, I don't be lieve you'll get the girl: come, Harman, I'll bet you a buck and six dozen of Burgundy, that you wont have spirit enough to bring this affair to a crisis. Har. And I say done first, colonel. Col. O. Then look into the court there, Sir; a chaise with four of the prettiest bay geldings in England, with two boys in scarlet and silver jackets, that will whisk you along. Har. Boys! Colonel? Little Cupids, to transport me to the summit of my desires. Col. O. Ay, but for all that, it mayn't be amiss for me to talk to them a little out of the window for you. Dick, come hither; you are to go with this gentleman, and do whatever he bids you, and take into the chaise whoever he pleases, and drive like devils, do you hear; but be kind to the dumb beasts. Har. Leave that to me, Sir-And so, my dear colonel, bon voyage! [Exit. Enter LADY MARY OLDBOY, and JENNY. Lady M. Mr. Oldboy, here is a note from Sir John Flowerdale; it is addressed to me, entreating my son to come over there again this morning. A maid brought it: she is in the anti-chamber-We had better speak to her -Child, child, why don't you come in? Jenny. I choose to stay where I am, if your ladyship pleases. Lady M. Stay where you are? why so? Jenny. I am afraid of the old gentleman there. Col. O. Afraid of me, hussy? Lady M. Pray, colonel, have patience. Afraid-Here is something at the bottom of this--What did you mean by that expression, child? Jenny. Why the Colonel knows very well, Madam; he wanted to be rude with me yesterday. Lady M. Oh, Mr. Oldboy! Col. O. Lady Mary don't provoke me, but let me talk to the girl about her business. How came you to bring this note here? Jenny. Why, Sir John gave it to me, to deliver to my unele Jenkins, and I took it down to his house; but while we were talking together, he remembered that he had some business with Sir John, so he desired me to bring it, because he said it was not proper to be sent by any of the common servants. Lady M. Colonel, look in my face, and help blushing if you can. Col. Ö. What the plague's the matter, my lady? I have not been wronging you now, as you call it. Jenny. Indeed, Madam, he offered to make me his kept Madam; I am sure his usage of me put me into such a twitter, that I did not know what I was doing all the day after. Lady M. I don't doubt it, though I so lately forgave him; but, as the poet says, his sex is all deceit. Read Pamela, child, and resist temptation. Jenny. Yes, Madam, I will. Col. O. Why I tell you, my lady, it was all a joke. Jenny. No, Sir, it was no joke: you made me a proffer of money, so you did, whereby I told you, you had a lady of your own, and that though she was old you had no right to despise her. Lady M. And how dare you, mistress, make use of my name? Is it for such trollops as you to talk of persons of distinction behind their backs? Jenny. Why, Madam, I only said you was in years. Lady M. Sir John Flowerdale shall be informed of your impertinence, and you shall be turned out of the family; I see you are a confident creature, and I believe you are no better than you should be. I don't want to stay; And so I'm your ladyship's servant. [Exit. Mr. J. What is the matter here? Lady M. I will have a separate maintenance, I will indeed. Only a new instance of your father's infidelity, my dear. Then with such low wretches, farmers' daughters and servant the same to him. wenches; but any thing with a cap on, 'tis all Mr. J. Upon my word, Sir, I am sorry to tell you, that those practices very ill suit the character which you ought to endeavour to support in the world. Lady M. Is this a recompense for my love and regard? I, who have been tender and faithful as a turtle dove. should, methinks, have views of a higher naMr. J. A man of your birth and distinction ture, than such low, such vulgar libertinism. Lady M. Consider my birth and family too; Lady Mary Jessamy might have had the best matches in England. Mr. J. Then, Sir, your gray hairs. Lady M. I that have brought you so many lovely sweet babes. Mr. J. Nay, Sir, it is a reflection on me. Col. O. 'Sdeath and fire, you little effeminate puppy, do you know who you talk to ?—And up to your chamber, or zounds! I'll make you, Madam, do you know who I am?-Get such a Lady M. Ah! my dear, come away from him. [Exit. Col. O. Am I to be tutored and called to account? Enter SERVANT. How now, you scoundrel, what do you want? Col. O. A letter from whom, sirrah? Serv. The gentleman's servant, an't please your honour, that left this just now in the postchaise-the gentleman my young lady went away with. Col. O. Your young lady, sirrah-Your young lady went away with no gentleman, you dog-What gentleman? What young lady, sirrah? Mr. J. With your leave, Sir, I'll open the letter. Cal, O. What are you going to do, you jackanapes? you sha'n't open a letter of mine-Dy -Diana-Somebody call my daughter to me there-[Reads.] To John Oldboy, Esq.-Sir,-1, have loved your daughter a great while secretly Jenny. I scorn your words, Madam. Mr. J. So, 60. Col. O. You villain-you dog, what is it you have brought me here? Serv. Please your honour, if you'll have patience, I'll tell your honour-As I told your honour before, the gentleman's servant that went off just now in the post chaise, came to the gate, and left it after his master was gone. I saw my young lady go into the chaise with the gentleman, Mr. J. Why, colonel this is your own hand. Col. O. Call all the servants in the house, let horses be saddled directly-every one take a different road. Sere. Why, your honour, Dick said it was by your own orders. Col. O. My orders, rascal? I thought he was going to run away with another gentleman's daughter-Dy-Diana Oldboy. [Exit SERVANT. Mr. J. Don't waste your lungs to no purpose, Sir; your daughter is half a dozen miles off by this time. Col. O. Sirrah, you have been bribed to further the scheme of a pickpocket here. Mr. J. Besides, the matter is entirely of your own contriving, as well as the letter and spirit of this elegant epistle. SCENE II. CLARISSA's Dressing-room. Enter CLARISSA, a Book in her hand, meeting JENNY. Clar. Where have you been, Jenny? I was inquiring for you-why will you go out without letting me know? Jenny. Dear Ma'am, never any thing happened so unlucky; I am sorry you wanted me -But I was sent to Colonel Oldboy's with a letter; where I have been so used-Lord have mercy upon me-quality indeed-I say quali ty-pray, Madam, do you think that I looks any ways like an immodest parson-to be sure I have a gay air, and I can't help it, and I loves to appear a little genteelish, that's what I do. Clar. Jenny, take away this book. Jenny. Heaven preserve me, Madam, you are crying. Clar. O my dear Jenny! Jenny. My dear mistress, what's the mat Clar. I am undone. Jenny. No, Madam; no, Lord forbid ! Clar. I am indeed-I have been rash enough to discover my weakness for a man who treats me with contempt. Col. O. You are a coxcomb, and I'll disinherit you; the letter is none of my writing; itter? was writ by the devil, and the devil contrived il. Diana, Margaret, my Lady Mary, William, John[Exit. Mr. J. I am very glad of this, prodigiously glad of it, upon my honour-he, he, he !-it will be a jest this hundred years. [Bells ring violently on both sides.] What's the matter now? O! her ladyship has heard of it, and is at her bell; and the colonel answers her. A pretty duet, but a little too much upon the forte, methinks: it would be a diverting thing now, to stand unseen at the old gentleman's elbow. [Exit. Re-enter COLONEL OLDBOY, with one boot, a great coat on his arm, &c. followed by several SERVANTS. Cal. O. She's gone, by the Lord; fairly stolen away, with that poaching, coney-catching rascal! However I wont follow her; no, damme; take my whip, and my cap, and my coat, and order the groom to unsaddle the horses; I wont follow her the length of a spurleather. Come here, you Sir, and pull off my boot. [Whistles.] She has made a fool of me once, she sha'n't do it a second time; not but I'll be revenged too, for I'll never give her sixpence; the disappointment will put the scoundrel out of temper, and he'll thrash her a dozen times a day; the thought pleases me; I hope he'll do it :--what do you stand gaping and staring at, you impudent dogs? are you laughing at me? I'll teach you to be merry at my expense. [Beats the SERVANTS off. A rascal, a hussy; zonnds! she that I counted In temper so mild, so unpractis'd in evil : I set her on horse-back, and no sooner mounted, Than, crack, whip, and spur, she rides post to But there let her run, [the devil. Be ruin'd, undone; If I go to catch her, Or back again fetch her, I'm worse than the son of a gun, Jenny. Is Mr. Lionel ungrateful then? Clar, I have lost his esteem for ever, Jenny. Since last night, that I fatally confessed what I should have kept a secret from all the world, he has scarce condescended to cast a look at me, nor given me an answer when I spoke to him, but with coldness and reserve. Jenny. Then he is a nasty, barbarous, inhuman brute. Clar. Hold, Jenny, hold; it is all my fault. Jenny. Your fault, Madam! I wish I was to hear such a word come out of his mouth: if he was a minister to-morrow, and to say such a thing from his pulpit, and I by, I'd tell him it was false upon the spot. [Knocks. Clar. Somebody's at the door; see who it is. be the most virtuousest, nicest, most delicatJenny. You in fault indeed-that I know to est Clar. How now? Jenny. Madam, it's a message from Mr. Lionel. If you are alone and at leisure, he would be glad to wait upon you: I'll tell him, Madam, that you are busy. Clar. Where is he, Jenny? Jenny. In the study, the man says. be glad to see him; but do not bring him up Clar. Then go to him, and tell him I should immediately, because I will stand in the bafcony a few minutes for a little air. Jenny. Do so, dear Madam, for your eyes are as red as ferrets'; you are ready to faint too; mercy on us, for what do you grieve and vex yourself?-if I was as you-mercy on me, it's very well I wasn't born a lady. Clar. Oh! [Exit. Why with sighs my heart is swelling, [Exit. Who, to winds and waves a stranger, Vent'rous tempts th' inconstant seas, In each billow fancies danger, Shrinks at every rising breeze. Enter SIR JOHN FLOWERDALE and JENKINS. Sir J. So then the mystery is discovered: but is it possible that my daughter's refusal of Colonel Oldboy's son should proceed from a clandestine engagement, and that engagement with Lionel? Jenk. Yes, Sir, and it is my duty to tell you; else I would rather die than be the means of wounding the heart of my dear young lady; for if there is one upon earth of truly noble and delicate sentiments Sir J. I thought so once, Jenkins. Jenk. And think so still: O, good Sir John, now is the time for you to exert that character of worth and gentleness which the world so deservedly has given you. You have indeed cause to be offended; but consider, Sir, your daughter is young, beautiful, and amiable; the poor youth unexperienced, sensible, and, at a time of life when such temptations are hard to be resisted their opportunities were many, their cast of thinking the same. Sir J. Jenkins, I can allow for all these things; but the young hypocrites, there's the thing, Jenkins; their hypocrisy, their hypocrisy, wounds me. Jenk. Call it by a gentler name, Sir; modesty on her part, apprehension on his. Sir J. Then what opportunity have they had? They never were together but when my sister or myself made one of the company; besides, I had so firm a reliance on Lionel's honour and gratitude. Jenk. Sir, I can never think that nature stamped that gracious countenance of his, to mask a corrupt heart. Sir J. How! at the very time that he was conscious of being himself the cause of it, did he not show more concern at this affair than I did? Nay, don't I tell you that last night, of his own accord, he offered to be a mediator in this affair, and desired my leave to speak to my daughter? I thought myself obliged to him, consented; and, in consequence of his assurance of success, wrote that letter to Colonel Oldboy, to desire the family would come here again to-day. Jenk. Sir, as we were standing in the next room, I heard a message delivered from Mr. Lionel, desiring leave to wait upon your daughter; I dare swear they will be here ently; suppose we were to step into that closet, and overhear their conversation? pres Sir J. What, Jenkins, after having lived so many years in confidence with my child, shall I become an eaves-dropper to detect her? Jenk. It is necessary at present.-Come in, my dear master, let us only consider that we were once young like them; subject to the same passions, the same indiscretions; and it is the duty of every man to pardon errors incident to his kind. [They go into the closet. Enter CLARISSA and LIONEL. Clar. Sir, you desired to speak to me; I need not tell you the present situation of my heart; it is full. Whatever you have to say, I beg you will explain yourself; and if possible, rid me of the anxiety under which I have laboured for some hours. Lion. Madam, your anxiety cannot be greater than mine: I come, indeed, to speak to you ; and yet, I know not how; I come to advise you, shall I say as a friend? yes, as a friend to your glory, your felicity; dearer to me than my life. Clar. Go on, Sir Lion. Sir John Flowerdale, Madam, is such a father as few are blessed with; his care, his prudence, has provided for you a matchYour refusal renders him inconsolable. Listen to no suggestions that would pervert you from your duty, but make the worthiest of men happy by submitting to his will. Clur. How, Sir, after what passed between us yesterday evening, can you advise me to marry Mr. Jessamy? Lion. I would advise you to marry any one, Madam, rather than a villain. Clar. A villain, Sir? Lion. I should be the worst of villains, Madam, was I to talk to you in any other strain': nay, am I not a villain, at once treacherous and ungrateful? Received into his house as an asylum: what have I done! Betrayed the confidence of the friend that trusted me; endeavoured to sacrifice his peace, and the honour of his family, to my own unwarrantable desires. Clar. Say no more, Sir; say no more; I see my error too late; I have parted from the rules prescribed to my sex; I have mistaken indecorum for a laudable sincerity; and it is just I should meet with the treatment my imprudence deserves. Lion. "Tis 1, and only 1, am to blame; while I took advantage of the father's security, I practised upon the tenderness and ingenuity of the daughter; my own imagination gone astray, 1 artfully laboured to lead yours after it: but here, Madam, I give you back those yows which I insidiously extorted from you; keep them for some happier man, who may receive them without wounding his honour or his peace. Clar. For Heaven's sake! Lion. Oh! my Clarissa, my heart is broke; I am hateful to myself for loving you;-yet, before I leave you for ever, I will once more touch that lovely hand-indulge my fondness with a last look-pray for your health and prosperity. Clur. Can you forsake me?-Have I then given my affections to a man who rejects and disregards them?-Let me throw myself at my father's feet; he is generous and compassionate :-he knows your worth— Lion. Mention it not; were you stripped of fortune, reduced to the meanest station, and I the monarch of the globe, I should glory in raising you to universal empire; but as it isFarewel, farewel! O dry those tears! like melted ore, Fast dropping on my heart they fall: Enter JENNY. I have gone and said something I should not Jenny. Oh, Madam! I have betrayed you. have said to my uncle Jenkins; and as sure as day, he has gone and told it all to Sir John. Clar. My father! |